Lowtown Alley
by Lehava Shadowsong
Summary: As Fenris makes his way home from the Hanged Man an itch is scratched. Fenris Smut. Definitely not the sweet kind of smut.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This was written for a friend to inspire her as she worked on a HawkexFenris comic. She really loved it and wanted it to be shared.

**Lowtown Alley**

by ClaretAmazon**  
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There were three of them.

Three bodies, three breaths, three cocks. Three men that had been hiding in the shadows of the Lowtown Alley. Three men he had not noticed until too late. They were only indentified by their hands: Long Fingers, Rough Hands and Smelly Palms.

The red token on his wrist had been snatched away, and used to block his sight. Forced to his knees by a kick to the back of them. Hands were bound with metal rings that supressed the lyrium brands, made them hurt even more for it. And through it all, the stripping of his clothes, the rough groping, he couldn't fight back.

The ale... the damned ale at the Hanged Man.

Drugged.

Helpless.

Powerless.

It turned him on. Fire coursed thick and hot through his veins, ecstasy clouding his mind with every thrust, smack, bite... Murmured words about how he was such a good whore, a filthy slut, made his cock harder.

He was still on his knees, Rough Hands had his head, his hair, in a hold as he fucked his throat. Long Fingers was digging into his hips along with Smelly Palms as his cock was sucked voraciously, and his ass was being stretched to it's limits. Three fingers were spearing him as Smelly Palms rammed him over and over and over again.

His asshole was clenching, wanting even more from the human in him. More pain, more strength, more of their cum. It leaked out of him with every thrust. Wet noises that made him moan around the flesh in his mouth. It was on his skin: ass, thighs, chest, face, even in his hair from when they'd made him try to suck off two of them.

Smelly Palms grunted, spewing the drenched passage with more liquid.

Rough Hands was next. He came on the elf's tongue, then his face. Smeared over him and on the red sash. The smell of sex and semen would never truely leave that piece of cloth, a reminder of that night.

Long Fingers forced him to guzzle his own cum.

It continued on for what felt like hours. Even after the drug left his system he let them use his body. He shouldn't like it, shouldn't want it, but since he'd left Danarius behind, since the Fog Warriors took him in, he had awakened some nights throbbing hard and aching to be used, to just be a hole to stick something in. Shameful, delicious remnants of his slavery. Just another mark Danarius had left on him.

Hawke had never been able to scratch that itch, no matter how he had tried to explain it to him.

So he let the three men twist him, force his body into almost unnatural positions as they used him. Each scratch, bite, insult, everything they did to him set that cumpulsion to ease. Yearned for the pain, the ache, the feel of rough stone making his body hurt as the three humans covered him in bruises and spum.

They left him there, only taking the Templar bonds with them. The clinking of coin on the stone was the last acknowledgement they had for him.

Gold and silver was collected, shoved into the pockets of his belt as he gathered his things. He didn't bother dressing again and walked to Hightown just as he was, content and limping, a smirk on swollen lips.


	2. Revenge

"Sebastian."

Those pretty blue eyes had widened when they saw the elf in the Chantry's main hall. The guilt had been written across his face for all to see. Two words had paled him, made him look desperately around for any exits before he'd been propelled into the confessionals. The Chantry Sister's had not been around or they would have heard the muffled noises of a struggle, then moans and a chant of a name that was not the Maker's.

'Is it the Maker that makes you writhe like that, Prince?'

'N-no!'

'Is it the Maker making you beg for cock?'

'More... Please!'

'Say it.'

'Fuck me, Fenris! Please, Fenris, I need your cock!'

Sebastian was pinned to the wall, face streaked with tears as they violated the holy ground of the Chantry. The Vow of Chastity that had been firmly thrown aside a few nights ago was thuroughly crushed into fine dust.

The Brother had been left in the confessional, cumstained and pants around his ankles. He had been gentler with him, as Sebastian had been far kinder to him that night than

"Anders."

His shadow on the Clinic's doorstep recieved no guilty looks, only a smug and satisfied smirk. The mage had no remorse for his actions and even crowed a little about his slutty actions.

He had not been gentle with him.

A fistful of long dirty blonde hair and he'd been shoved over one of his examination tables. Robes had been ripped apart, used to bind together hands and gag Anders. The round, pale ass quickly turned red, lanced with shallow lacerations from the sharp edges of his gauntlets. He hadn't stopped until the abomination was crying, screaming around the gag. When the muffled begging for mercy came three metal-encased fingers were shoved into him with only a thin sheen of oil.

The table creaked as he fucked the mage. One leg broke but it didn't stop him. When he came, it was on his face.

Anders was left there, laying over the broken table, ass in the air and bound, cumstained. Whomever found him like that would count their lucky stars that day.

"Hawke."

The mastermind behind the whole thing. The one who never understood what he wanted - or so Fenris had believed - was the last one he'd confronted.

He had wanted it, yes, yet it had not been Sebastian or Anders touch he wanted controling him. Hawke was the one he had trusted, was the one he wanted to have etched into his skin, the claim of ownership on a primal level. Instead he had the touch of three men. One he loathed with all his being, one he had respected, and one he could say he loved.

His mind had been made up days ago. They claimed him, they had eased the compulsion of a blood mage's thrall, but he would claim all three in return. He would not allow this to be a one sided act. A thrilling thought that made his blood as hot as it was when they'd used him. The slave who had nothing, had been a thing, would turn the tide on them.

Fenris smirked at his lover. The mage was teetering on the edge of consciousness. Hawke had been utterly claimed. His lips were swollen and glazed with cum, body decorated with blue and purple, scratches from metal and nails. Garrett's sex laid limp against his hip and he was certian after the abuse he'd given it, it would be unable to rise any time soon.

"You're all mine." 


End file.
